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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116561">When You're Gone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniousHufflepuff/pseuds/HarmoniousHufflepuff'>HarmoniousHufflepuff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Male Homosexuality</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:22:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniousHufflepuff/pseuds/HarmoniousHufflepuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If you had the chance to go back in time and change things, would you? When Butters commits suicide, Kenny makes a deal with Death. But you know what they say - careful what you wish for.</p><p>This work contains content that may be sensitive to some readers, such as self-harm, implied/referenced suicide, implied/referenced rape/non-con, and scenes of child abuse in later chapters. Please read at your own risk if any of these topics bother you. I will be placing content warnings at the beginning of chapters that contain sensitive material.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I sat on the Stotch’s living room couch, watching as the paramedics carried Butters’ body out of the house on a gurney. They had a white sheet draped over him, a certain indication that the boy was gone. Tears continued to roll down my cheeks in thick streams as I desperately tried to remove the image of my friend’s lifeless body from my mind. Linda and Stephen Stotch stood out on the front lawn, talking to the police chief about Butters. I could faintly hear Linda crying, and Stephen doing his best to console her. I turned my gaze down to the plush carpet of the neat, almost pristine living room. I felt out of place being in a place so clean; it was a lot nicer than my house. I couldn’t seem to shake the thoughts of self-guilt from my mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You could’ve stopped this, Kenny; you could’ve stopped </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>him</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why hadn’t I told someone what Butters was doing to himself? I knew something, and I could’ve used that knowledge to help prevent this from happening...but I didn’t. I did nothing, and now my best friend was dead. I heard footsteps approaching me, and I lifted my head slightly to see another officer heading my way. </span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Kenneth McCormick?’’ He asked. I sniffed and nodded in clarification. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’You can call me Kenny.’’ I stated, my voice shaking in grief. The officer nodded solemnly and sat down next to me on the couch. I could tell by the clipboard in his hands that he was here to ask me some questions regarding my friend’s death. I removed my hood from my head, revealing my tangled and greasy blonde mop. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’You’re here to ask me some questions about Butters,’’ My voice quavered but I made an attempt to keep my composure,  ‘’aren’t you?’’ I finished, choking back a sob. The officer, noticing my distressed state, simply nodded. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Yes, but don’t worry, it won’t take long. Now, Kenny, I just want to make sure you know that honesty is of vital importance here. When you answer my questions, I want you to tell me the truth and nothing but the truth. That means no white lies, no exaggerating the truth or downplaying the situation. Is that understood?’’ The officer began. I blinked back some more tears threatening to fall and nodded in understanding. The officer cleared his throat and began the interview. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Kenny, from your knowledge and understanding, how did Leopold Stotch die?’’ Of course that would be the first question he’d ask. I swallowed anxiously and took a deep breath. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Suicide...he died from suicide, sir.’’ I answered as calmly as I could manage. I watched as the officer scribbled something down on his clipboard before he proceeded to the next question. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’What form of suicide did Leopold use to end his life?’’ This was the question that broke me. I didn’t attempt to stop the tears that began spilling from my eyes and turned my gaze to the floor, the image of Butters’ lifeless body haunting my mind. I eventually managed to choke out a response.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’It was an overdose…’’ I heard the pen scribbling on paper again, but I didn’t dare look up. Instead, I kept my eyes to the floor and waited until I heard the officer speak again. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Kenneth, I know this is hard for you son, but I need you to look at me, please. I only have a few more questions to ask you.’’ He said gently. I sniffed and slowly lifted my head, facing the officer once more. He nodded at me in painful understanding before asking another question. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Kenny, were you aware of anything happening in the deceased’s life that may have driven them to this? Do you know if Leopold participated in any harmful habits or activities, such as self-harm?’’ The officer questioned. I squeezed my eyes shut at this question as I tried to think. There were so many different ways I could answer this question. I sighed, eventually deciding to just be completely honest about what I knew. After all, lying wouldn’t do me any good in the situation, especially if Butters was already gone. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Well, I know that he was a victim of some heavy bullying at school. It had been going on since middle school started. He was constantly being picked on and abused by the other kids, mostly due to his sexuality. He came out as gay around 7th grade and ever since then, the bullying seemed to get progressively worse. He was constantly tripped, shoved, beaten up, called names, and sometimes cornered because he was openly gay. About a week ago, I found out that he </span>
    <em>
      <span>was</span>
    </em>
    <span> participating in self-harm. I’d seen a bunch of scars and cuts on his left wrist. He came out of the bathroom at school earlier today with a fresh blood stain on his sleeve…’’ I couldn’t continue. The lump in my throat was beginning to grow and it took everything in me to not completely lose it right there. I glanced at the officer and awaited any more questions. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Okay. I just have one more question, Kenny: if you knew Leopold was participating in self-harm, why didn’t you come forward with your knowledge to his parents or trusted authority figure?’’ This is the question I had been dreading, and I felt a pang of guilt hit me as I answered honestly. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘'I felt that it wasn’t my place to tell. I thought at the time that if he wanted help, he’d take the initiative to ask for it himself. I never, ever thought he’d resort to this, I really didn’t. He was a happy kid, regardless of all the bullying and torment...I thought he was, anyway. I wish I would’ve said something immediately after I’d found out. If I had, he might still be here…’’ I answered, feeling myself breaking. Usually, I could be strong in situations such as this. But this situation was different. This situation involved my best friend. The officer finished scribbling those final pieces of information down before looking me in the eyes. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’I know this is hard Kenny, and I know you might be holding onto a lot of guilt right now. But this is not your fault, do you understand me? You wanted to respect his privacy, and that does not make you a bad person.’’ He bid me farewell before standing up and heading towards the door. I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my head in my arms as I heard the coroner drive off, as well as the officers. Stephen tapped my shoulder gently, leading me to look up. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’It’s getting late, son. Your parents are going to want you home. You’d better get going before it gets dark…’’ He said. I nodded before silently sliding off the couch and heading out the door. As I made the snowy trek home from the Stotch residence, only one thought ran through my mind: </span>
    <b>
      <em>I could’ve stopped it…</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/>
<p>
  <span>The news about Butters’ death spread around the town like wildfire. By Monday morning, the entire school knew what had happened. That’s what happened when you lived in a small little town: word traveled fast. My classmates’ eyes followed me as I walked down the hall to my locker. Kyle and Stan were already there, waiting for me. I entered my locker combination and threw my stuff into the metal container before slamming the door shut. </span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Dude, Kenny, I just heard about it this morning. What the hell happened, dude?’’ Stan asked. I sighed and looked away from them, my hood bunched around my face like usual, only exposing my eyes. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’I really don’t want to talk about it right now, guys. The wound is still too fresh, I need some time to process this.’’ I said, my voice muffled by my parka. At that moment, Cartman came rushing towards us, a huge smile plastered onto his face. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’You guys! You guys, is it true? Is the fag really dead?’’ I noticed Kyle and Stn giving him a death glare, warning him to shut up. I sucked in a deep breath as my blood began to boil in anger. Cartman, of course, didn’t take the hint.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’This is hilarious, you guys! Suicide, fucking suicide, guys! Oh my god, this is too good to be true!’’ Cartman was bent over in hysterics, wiping a few tears from his eyes occasionally from laughing so hard. Before I knew what I was doing, I turned around and shoved Cartman into the row of lockers, </span>
    <em>
      <span>hard</span>
    </em>
    <span>. I heard a clang as his head made contact with the metal and he fell to the ground.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Kenny, what the fuck?!’’ He spat angrily. I didn’t care about his pathetic feelings at the moment. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Fuck you! Fuck you, Cartman! He was your friend, you fat fuck! It’s just like you to not care about anyone but yourself.’’ I snarled before swinging my semi-empty backpack over my shoulder and heading to first period, leaving a dumbstruck Cartman, Stan, and Kyle behind. </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/>
<p>
  <span>I was silent for the rest of the day. By the time the lunch hour rolled around, I was on my way home. I didn’t feel like staying the remainder of the school day; there was no point, in my opinion. Besides, I needed some time for myself to think. I was still reeling from the events that had transpired over the weekend. I understood why Butters had taken the route he had, but part of me was still in denial that it had happened. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that the sweetest kid in school was actually gone. I shivered as a small gust of cold wind blew past, and another wave of guilt washed over me. I continued to dwell on the fact that I could’ve stopped this from happening. I knew what he was doing to himself, and I knew that he was hurting. I could have told someone about what Butters was suffering from, and he could’ve received the proper help and guidance he needed to get through it. I hadn’t spoken up when I had knowledge of what was going on, and now he was gone. I could see my home ahead of me now and I still couldn’t stop myself from cringing every time I saw it. It looked old, run-down, and the exterior of it was absolutely disgusting. I didn’t have the reputation of being the ‘poor kid’ for nothing, and my house was a prime example of why I’d obtained such a nickname. I walked through the front door to the sight of my father passed out on the living room couch with several Pabst Blue Ribbon cans scattered around him and on the floor. </span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Fucking drunk,’’ I muttered as I stalked past him and headed to my bedroom. Upon entry, I threw my tattered old backpack onto the floor and flopped down onto my old, dirty mattress that I called my bed. My family’s financial stability was nearly nonexistent, and we were worse off than we had been when I was nine. This was due to my father’s excessive drinking habit and my mother getting laid off from work. Don’t ask me where my father found the money to continue to enable his drinking addiction, because I couldn’t tell you, and I honestly didn’t want to know either. Since losing her job, my mother had fallen into a state of depression and hadn’t made much of an effort to find more work. Due to this, our finances were terrible. I was lucky if I could get my hands on something edible for my sister and myself to eat. If I could only find something to sustain one of us, it would be given to Karen every time. She always came before me, as far as I was concerned. </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>Our older brother Kevin had dropped out of high school as a freshman and the family hadn’t heard from him since. Some say he ran away, and I wouldn’t blame him if that were true. The same thought had crossed my mind on more than one occasion, but I couldn’t leave, not without Karen. I knew how easy it would be to take Karen and just leave, but I also knew that with no job or source of income, I wouldn’t be able to keep us both healthy and taken care of. I knew if I tried to remove her and me from our shelter without a game plan, she would succumb to the environment and die. I couldn’t let that happen. So we stayed. Karen was the only thing that kept me going now that Butters was gone. She gave me a purpose in life because she was truly the only thing I had left. I growled in anger and swung my fist at my bedroom wall, which did nothing more than triggering throbbing pain in my hand. I stewed silently, staring at the cracked ceiling above me. I tore my gaze away from the ceiling when I heard the faint sound of my door squeaking open, and my little sister stood in the doorway. I sat up and faced her, patting a spot on the mattress next to me, inviting her in. She quietly entered and closed the door behind her before shuffling over to me and sitting criss-cross on the mattress. I positioned myself behind her and gently pulled her into my arms, stroking the top of her head. She had stayed home from school that day due to not feeling well. I had wanted to stay home as well, to take care of her, but our father wouldn’t allow it since I seemed to be feeling fine and shoved me out the door. I felt her snuggle into me, and I knew she had been waiting all day for me to come home. </span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>‘’How are you feeling, Kare-bear?’’ I asked. She let out a small cough, and I felt her shrug against me. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’I still don’t feel good. I missed you Ken…’’ She replied, messing with a loose string on my thin blanket. I sighed, feeling terrible about leaving her that morning. I always hated leaving her alone with our parents and I tried to avoid that whenever possible. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’How has Dad been today?’’ I asked, somewhat dreading the answer. I had a feeling that I already knew the answer, judging by the mess I had walked in on 15 minutes earlier, but I had to hear it from her. She sighed, snuggling more into my embrace. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’He began drinking shortly after you left for school, and I want to say he passed out maybe 30 minutes ago. Right before you got home, I think.’’ She said, keeping her voice low so as to not risk waking him up with our conversation, since the walls in the house were so thin. I nodded, pulling her in tighter and just enjoying her company. I reached one hand to her forehead and laid it there, trying to get a sense of whether or not she had a fever. She did feel warm, but not enough to where I was incredibly concerned.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’Have you tried to take any cold medicine?’’ I questioned, gently releasing my grip on her and standing up to go check the small medicine cabinet we had in the bathroom. She nodded. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>‘’I looked in there, and I took the last bit of medicine we had. I think it’s helping a little bit, but it’s working pretty slowly…’’ She said. I nodded, coming back over to the mattress and laying down this time, allowing my sister to lay next to me. </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>Our house didn’t have very good insulation, and so it was usually pretty chilly. Although we both had our own rooms, Karen often slept with me in my room to keep warm and to have that extra bit of comfort. Ever since Kevin had left, we had become closer than ever. We knew that as far as survival, the only ones we could really count on were each other. A few minutes passed before I noticed that Karen had drifted off into a light sleep. I laid there with her in my arms, not quite tired enough myself to nap. I stared at the ceiling once again, wishing I could find some way, any way, to bring Butters back. It wasn’t fair that he was gone. It wasn’t fair that one of the sweetest souls in the world had been taken away from us because of other people and their stupid words and actions. As I lay there with Karen sound asleep in my arms, I suddenly realized why losing Butters affected me so much, a reason that tied in with him being my best friend. Butters reminded me of Karen. Both of them were absolute angels, and there was just something about them that made you want to be a better person. They were more alike than I thought, and it took one of them dying for me to realize why the two of them meant so much to me. If anything ever happened to Karen, I would never be able to live with myself, and I vowed to her that I would do whatever it took to protect her. That’s when I made up my mind. I didn’t care what it took, or what it would cost me. I was going to find a way to bring Butters back. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Content Warning: This chapter contains subject matter that may be sensitive to some readers, such as self-harm and implied/referenced suicide. If such material is sensitive to you, I advise that you don't read this story. Read at your own risk. </strong> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>            From the start, I could tell something wasn’t right. Everyone seemed to brush it off, as though it was nothing. I knew better. Butters wasn’t himself. He hadn’t been himself for months, it seemed. He wasn’t cheerful and bubbly like he often appeared. A depressing fog replaced the normal sparkle in his bright blue eyes. Summer came around and even when the weather warmed up significantly to where the town shed their winter coats, Butters still wore long sleeves. No one else seemed to question his odd behavior, but I could sense there was something going on. When confronted about it, Butters gave me the excuse of being cold. Yet, I still knew better. I knew there was something bothering him, but I knew it wasn’t my place to force anything out of him. If he wanted to talk, he’d do so. At least, that’s what I thought. </p><p>One day, my suspicions about his behavior proved to be correct. Butters had invited me to sleep over at his house after school on a Friday since he wasn’t grounded for once. His parents had planned a weekend away for their anniversary, allowing Butters to stay home alone while they were gone. He was 16, after all. He could take care of the house for one weekend, right? The night started off pretty normally; we talked and watched YouTube videos. Things were going great...and then they went downhill. It was nearing 6:00 and we decided it was a good time to make some dinner. We’d settled on some macaroni and cheese for dinner. As Butters reached to get two bowls out of the cabinet, his sleeve slid down his arm slightly, revealing multiple cuts along his arm. I watched as he placed the bowls down on the counter and before I could stop myself, I had grabbed his wrist and pushed his sleeve up to his elbow. </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>‘’Butters, what the hell are these?’’ It was quiet for several long moments, neither of us saying a word. I looked into his eyes, which I saw were welling up with tears. He glanced at me sadly before yanking his wrist out of my grasp. He turned his back to me and I felt a pang of guilt hit me. Maybe I shouldn’t have grabbed him like that. We stood in silence for a few more moments before he finally spoke. </p>
  <p>‘’Do you know what it’s like, Kenny?’’ Although he had control of his composure, I could still hear the pain in his voice. He didn’t allow me to answer before he spoke again. </p>
  <p>‘’Do you know what it’s like to go through every day acting like everything is alright? Aw, gee, of course, you don’t. I mean, you’ve got everything you could ever ask for. You’ve got decent grades, you have parents who don’t see you as a mistake, you play a sport, gee, you’ve even got Bebe...I don’t have any of that stuff.’’ I thought about all this. My grades weren’t good, but they certainly weren’t terrible either. They were kind of in that middle ground between good and bad. I had picked up on soccer the previous year, which had been great so far. Bebe and I had also started going out at the end of the previous school year, right before summer break began. That was going pretty well too, at least I felt like it was. There was only one thing he wasn’t exactly correct about: my relationship with my parents. Since the beginning of middle school, Butters had somehow become even more of an outcast than he had been back in elementary school, and I noticed some heavy bullying inflicted on him throughout middle school and into high school. It had been going on for years, and it was no wonder that he was harming himself. He thought no one cared. I knew I needed to tell someone. But I didn’t...until it was too late. </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p>I wasn’t expecting what happened a week later. It started off as a normal Friday at South Park High School. The student council was making final preparations for the homecoming dance later that month. I was part of the student council, along with Butters, Craig, Wendy, Kyle, and a few older girls. As Butters came back in with the rest of the decorations to put in the supply closet, one of the older girls named Miranda stuck her foot out, tripping Butters and sending the tub of decorations flying. </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>‘’Watch where you’re going, fag!’’ Miranda taunted, getting some laughs from the other girls in her grade. Wendy attempted to hide a snicker and Craig leaned against the far wall of the gym, a bored expression on his face. Kyle and I glared at the others as we saw tears well up in our friend’s eyes. It was well known that Butters was gay. He came out in eighth grade and this is the kind of treatment he’d endured ever since. It happened every single day and it honestly disgusted me. Kyle headed to the middle of the gym to start gathering up the spilled decorations as I approached Butters and reached out my hand towards him. </p>
  <p>‘’Hey buddy, need a hand?’’ I offered, smiling gently. Butters simply pushed my hand away before he stood up and ran off, tears streaming down his face. Butters was unusually silent the rest of the day. I kept glancing at him worriedly throughout the classes that we shared, and each time all I saw was a solemn look on his face. After school, I noticed him coming out of the boy’s bathroom and gently pulled him off to the side. </p>
  <p>‘’Butters, are you doing alright?’’ I asked. He didn’t say anything, simply nodding instead. I glanced down at his sleeve and noticed a wet red stain on the sleeve. Gently, I took hold of his wrist and rolled up the sleeve, being greeted by several bleeding cuts. They looked fresh. My heart dropped. </p>
  <p>‘’Butters, are these new? Were you cutting in the bathroom?’’ I prayed the answer was no. Butters avoided my gaze, confirming my fear. I let out a small whimper, engulfing the small teen in a hug. </p>
  <p>‘’You’re my best friend, Butters. Please, don’t do this anymore.’’ I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at him; he had every reason to feel the way he did, but I knew there were better ways to release his pain without hurting himself. I felt him pull away and I let go of him. He looked at me with pain in his eyes, rolling his sleeve back down before he headed towards the school bus to go home. I wanted so badly to follow him, to make sure he knew someone cared...I wish I had done that. </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p>As I walked home after soccer practice an hour later, I had a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. In a sudden rush of adrenaline, I ran as fast as my legs would carry me to Butters’ house. As I approached the house, I realized that his parents were still at work, judging by the empty driveway. I hurried to the front door to find it unlocked. I pushed the door open and entered the house to complete silence. That wasn’t good.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>‘’Butters?’’ I shouted out. No response. The knot in my stomach grew tighter, and my instincts kicked in. </p>
  <p>‘’Butters?!’’ Before I could realize what was happening, I found myself running up the stairs, praying and hoping that my gut feeling was wrong. I turned his bedroom doorknob to find it locked. </p>
  <p>‘’Butters, open the door! Butters!'' In one last desperate attempt to make sure he was okay, I began ramming into the door, trying to break it down. After a minute or so of doing this, I was finally able to break the door down and I rushed into his room. I gasped in horror at the sight in front of me. </p>
  <p>‘’Butters...no!’’ I knelt beside his limp body lying on the floor at his bedside. His skin felt like ice and his face was pale. </p>
  <p>‘’Butters...Butters, please!’’ I was crying now, my body shaking with sobs. As I glanced up, I noticed a folded piece of paper on his nightstand. I raised a shaking hand to the nightstand and unfolded the paper, tears streaming down my cheeks as I began to read the all too familiar handwriting. </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <em> To whoever is taking the time to read this, </em>
</p><p><em> You never thought it would come to this, did ya? I seemed happy, right? Wrong. I haven’t been happy for a long time, fellas. A very long time. And yet none of you cared enough to even notice how I was truly feeling. So I guess I’ll start here. My name is Leopold  ‘’Butters’’ Stitch. I was born on September 11, 2001, to Linda and Stephen Stotch. And today, I committed suicide. You fellas may be askin’ yourselves why. Well, I’ll tell ya why. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve been the laughingstock of South Park. For years I’ve been bullied, outcast, abused, taken advantage of, and even sent away. You thought that wouldn’t affect me? Well, ya thought wrong. I have feelings just like the rest of ya. I </em> <b> <em>had</em> </b><em>feelings, I should say. None of you seemed to care ‘bout that, though. To all you guys, I was just your punching bag. That being said, I have some things to say to a few people.  </em></p><p>
  <em> Eric, </em>
</p><p><em> Why’d ya treat me the way you did? I used to say that you were my best friend, even though most of the town hated ya. I guess I didn’t process all the things you’d done to me back then. And you’d done a lot, Eric. No matter the situation, no matter the risk or consequence, I was there. I was loyal to you, and I took the fall for you more times than I can count. I was <strong>there</strong></em>, Eric. I expected you to be there for me in return...but you weren’t. You never were. What happened when we hit middle school, Eric? Was I suddenly not worth the time anymore? Was I an embarrassment to ya? Did ya forget about me? Well, that’s okay, I guess. Nobody really thought that I was worth it, either. </p><p>
  <em> Kyle and Stan, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You two were always kind to me, for the most part. Then we hit middle school. What happened to our friendship, fellas? I understand that Stan, you became involved with sports and a girlfriend, and Kyle, you were focused on your studies and clubs. But was there ever any time for poor old Butters? Would it have killed ya to say hi to me once in a while? I guess I see where I stand with you guys, too.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Kenny, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thanks for always bein’ there. You were really my best friend all along. And I’m so sorry, Kenny. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To the rest of ya, gee, what do I say? Ya never cared anyway. I know my suicide won’t affect a lot of you, but at least I know Kenny will care. I’m really sorry, Kenny. I just couldn’t take it anymore. It’s just my time. So...I guess this is goodbye. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of any worth to you, South Park. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sincerely,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Leopold ‘’Butters’’ Stotch </em>
</p><p>The paper fell from my hands and soared gently to the floor. I sat there for a moment, trying to process everything I’d just read. Once I had, I found myself feeling angry. Angry with Cartman, with Stan and Kyle, and with this entire little shitty town. They caused this. They didn’t care about him in the slightest...and now he was gone. I sat there for a few more minutes before gathering up the strength to stand up from the floor. I looked around the room for Butters’ phone and found it sitting on his desk. With shaking hands, I picked up the device and typed in the passcode. I was the only one who knew Butters’ passcode; I was the only one he trusted to know his passcode. Once I unlocked it, I tapped on the phone icon to open up the dial pad. I took a deep breath before typing in 3 numbers and holding the device to my ear. </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>‘’I need help. My friend just committed suicide.’’</p>
</blockquote>
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